The three others were upon their own claims, and they, also,
seemed unobtrusively ready for whatever might be going to happen.
Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he
came up, but he did not slacken his pace until he was within ten
feet of Stanley.
"You're across the dead line, m' son," said Stanley, with lazy
significance. "And you, too," he added, flickering a glance at
Miss Georgie.
"The dead line," said Good Indian coolly, "is beyond the Point o'
Rocks. I'd like to see you on the other side by sundown."
Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the
tips of his riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to
Good Indian's face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at
what he saw there.
"Got the papers for that?" he asked calmly. But his jaw had
squared.
"I've got something better than papers. Your boss is dead. I
shot him just now. He's lying back there by the stable." Good
Indian tilted his head backward, without taking his eyes from
Stanley's face--and Stanley's right hand, too, perhaps.
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